


I'll Be Home for Christmas

by readerbook1981



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Clint and Natasha do Christmas, Did I mention Clint Barton in a Santa Hat and no shirt?, Domestic Avengers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Married Couple, Maybe OOC I don't know, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Shirtless Hawkeye in a Santa Hat, new recruits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readerbook1981/pseuds/readerbook1981
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint surprises Natasha on Christmas Eve.  Naughty times ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home for Christmas

Christmastime was never a time Natasha had given any special thoughts to. 

Now that she was with SHIELD, the holiday was either spent out on a mission or working some inter-office assignment that no one else really wanted. If the mark she was trailing celebrated the holiday, then she would join in, but mostly it just passed like any other day.

This year was different though; she had something to celebrate and someone to celebrate with. Her relationship with Clint had been going on for a few years now but after the Brazil mission, things were on a whole new level.

They were married now, well, technically the ceremony the Shaman had performed was reserved for his tribe only but money talks a universal language and he’d agreed to perform it on the bedraggled American couple who’d shown up bruised, bandaged, and bleeding on his doorstep one night.

So this was her first Christmas as part of a married couple, part of anything really – but she wasn’t even going to get to spend it with her new groom. Instead of a honeymoon, they’d had a few hours in a penthouse hotel room in the middle of Rio De Janiero before flying back to SHIELD headquarters for their debriefing. 

And Clint had immediately gotten orders for a long-term surveillance mission in Florida. They’d barely had time to move her belongings into his top floor Manhattan apartment before he was gone. 

That was three weeks ago and so she was spending this Christmas at SHIELD’s New York headquarters, analyzing Russian spy photos and missing Clint so much it hurt. She was due to check out at six, and she planned to grab some dinner and then get back to the apartment in time for her almost nightly skype session with him.

But then some new recruits and some very juvenile young agents, bored at desk duty on Christmas Eve, decided to sneak into one of the weapons development labs and get themselves covered in some extremely messy, but not at all dangerous, goop meant to disable communication equipment.

Fury, who was off on Christmas Eve, go figure, had furiously given her orders to get the mess cleaned up and give the agents a lecture on appropriate behavior in his absence.

Fury was terrifying but if anyone was second on the fear scale at SHIELD, it was Natasha. She spent an hour channeling as much Fury menace as possible as she gave the agents a lecture that would go down in SHIELD history before allowing them to wash up and clean the mess. 

By the time she was done, it was 9 o’clock and she was ready to get back to the apartment and soak in a hot bath and forget all about this night, but as soon as she turned the key in the lock, she noticed something was off. The second deadbolt wasn’t fashioned and she knew she had locked it when she’d left that morning. 

She pulled a gun out from her bag and stepped in slowly, weapon drawn, before noticing the tactical backpack in the hallway. A few more steps revealed a rectangular bag she knew carried a retractable bow and specially designed arrows and when she turned the corner into their living room she saw Clint Barton, asleep on the couch, in a Santa Clause hat and pajama bottoms and nothing else.

Natasha took in the sight, her mind boggled with the parallel thoughts of how he could manage to look both incredibly sexy and absolutely adorable at the same time.

The gun was restored to her bag.

“Clint,” his name said in a whisper so not to startle him, sleep was light for the master marksmen and he often had a gun hidden near him.

He startled out of his sleep but had his bearings enough to not reach around for his weapon. 

“Hey, Merry Christmas,” he said, groggily, fixing his eyes on her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing over to him.

“I charmed my way into getting a leave pass.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Okay, I begged Coulson and he took pity on me. It’s the first time I’ve ever asked off for Christmas.”

“What happened to your shirt?”

“I spilled Vodka sauce on it,” he motioned to the white t-shirt thrown over the side of the couch, an obvious red stain on it. 

“You were cooking dinner?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said drowsily, stretching. Natasha mentally told herself to keep her mouth shut, he looked so delectable, muscles rippling as he put his arms above his head. She didn’t think it was possible but he seemed even more cut then when he had left, his torso noticeably darker from exercising in the Florida sun. “I was waiting for you but you didn’t come home so I packed everything up and then sat down on the couch and I must have fallen asleep.”

She sighed, “There was a crisis back at headquarters.” 

“New recruits?”

She nodded and pointed, “And the hat?”

“I saw it at the store when I picked up stuff for dinner and I couldn’t resist.” He gave her a crooked, sleepy grin, “You like?”

Natasha didn’t answer, instead she climbed on his lap and straddled him, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving her approval with a searing kiss. His hands went to her face and she moaned into his mouth a little as his teeth lightly bit down on her bottom lip.

“You hungry?” he asked, when they broke apart. 

“I can wait,“ Natasha went in for another kiss, raking her fingers through his hair under the hat while his hands reached under her shirt, snaking up her back and sending shivers down her spine as his fingernails scraped softly down her skin.

Just then her stomach growled audibly and she felt Clint smile against her mouth.

“I don’t think you can.”

She laughed, “I guess not, I really can’t remember the last time I ate.”

“Let me heat everything up, you can go change into something comfortable,” he gave her a playful slap on the ass as she climbed off him, “Besides, we have all night.”

Clint busied himself in the kitchen as Natasha went into the bedroom to change out of her SHIELD gear. She opened a drawer to pull out her pajamas but then spied one of Clint’s white button-downs in the closet.

She walked out of the bedroom wearing Clint’s shirt, half buttoned, and nothing else. He looked up from the glass of wine he was pouring and froze, arousal clouding his eyes, before letting out a low whistle and putting down the wine bottle to cross the kitchen to her.

“You look amazing,” he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him, his mouth crashing down hers as he guided them backwards towards the kitchen island where he had set up the plates containing dinner.

There were two plates of pasta with a creamy vodka sauce on the counter, adorned with fresh basil and two glasses of red wine.

“Wow, Barton,” she exclaimed, “I’m impressed.”

They ate standing up, leaning against the counter and Natasha told Clint about the events at headquarters that day, sparing no detail at the verbal lashing she had given the recruits, while he listened with a half grin on his face, eyes crinkling at the details. 

As she took another sip of wine, Natasha noticed a hungry look at Clint’s eyes that had nothing to do with food. She put down her glass and grabbed the Santa hat that lay discarded on counter, placing on his head and then leaned in to kiss him.

He stepped closer to her and lifted her easily onto the counter, his hands roaming up over the shirt to close on her breasts, her nipples hardening to his touch as he parted her legs and put his body between them, pressing into her so she could feel his hardness through her thin panties. 

His hands snaked into her hair, pulling gently on it so that her head fell back and exposed the creamy, white expanse of her neck. He nipped gently on it before whispering in her ear.

“I’ve been half hard this whole time, looking at you in my shirt, you look so good baby.” Her hand went up to his head, knocking the Santa hat to the floor as she ran her fingers through his hair, “I’ve missed you so much, I think about you all the time.” 

He kissed down her neck, pushing the fabric of the shirt aside to take a nipple in his mouth, sucking and then biting down softly, bringing a small gasp out of her. His hands made quick work of unbuttoning the shirt and letting it fall off of her, onto the counter as his mouth went back to her breasts, taking one in his mouth while rolling his fingers around the other nipple. 

His hands continued their trek, traveling down her torso and then lower to the waistband of her underwear where he hooked his thumbs and pulled them off in one swift motion before hovering over her, eyes lit up with a predatory glint as they pored over her body. He looked sleek and dangerous, muscled arms placed on either side of her, trapping her in and Natasha felt her pulse quicken even more at his smoldering stare.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, “Do you think about me?”

“Yes,” she breathed out, “All the time.”

“Like this?” He lowered himself and bit down on her nipple again, a little harder this time, before running his tongue over her, soothing the area.

“Yes,” she gasped, arching her hips up, reaching her hand down between them to stroke him through the pajama pants.

“Do you touch yourself when you think of me?” He went on, moving to the other breast and repeating his previous action.

She nodded quickly, biting her lip as his mouth traveled back up her neck, “Show me.” He said in a soft, but firm voice that made her ache with desire.

She obeyed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, as she moved her hand from him and placed it on her breast, fondling it while the other traveled between her legs, fingering herself while he watched.

“Fuck,” his voice was husky, hands sliding down her thighs, “That’s so hot.”

She let out a little moan, increasing her speed as he looked on, his eyes hooded and dilated. 

“What do you think about me doing?” he asked huskily.

“Making me come,” she breathed out.

“Oh yeah? How?” He was biting his lip now, his hands inching up her legs.

“With your mouth, then with your cock inside me.”

“Fuck,” he said again, “I _want _to make you come.” Without warning he pushed her hand away and replaced it with his mouth, sucking hard on her clit and causing her to cry out, slapping her hands down on the counter and arching her back up high. He placed his hand down on her hip, pushing her back down and licking down her slit before plunging his tongue inside her, drawing a loud whimper out of her as his thumb rubbed back and forth on her clit, pressing down hard and making small circles.__

“Please,” she cried, trying not to make her voice sound whiny, but not having much control over her emotions as the moment.

“Please what?” he said, sliding one, then two fingers into her as she moaned loudly, arching off the counter again but getting stopped by his firm hand, palm spread flat over her hip as his thumb continued to work at her.

“Please make me come, I want to come for you.” She practically yelled, so turned on she felt like she was on fire, the look in his eyes and his ministrations bringing her to the edge but not pushing her off the cliff.

His mouth was back on her then, sucking and biting at her while he added a third finger, slipping it in easily as her slick wetness enveloped him, and she started to flutter around him. He fingered her hard because he knew that was the way she liked it, pushing in roughly and making the coil inside her stomach unwind as her body shuddered and convulsed into an orgasm, his name echoing loudly from her mouth.

He didn’t stop until he knew he had wrung every last shudder out of her, until Natasha was practically seeing stars and panting, quaking and feeling wild, her blood boiling.

As she came down from her high, he kissed softly up body, ending at her lips and nuzzling her ear.

“Merry Christmas baby.” He whispered.

She smiled and willed her jellied muscles to move, pushing herself up on one elbow. 

“Can I give you a present now?”

“You’re more than welcome to sweetheart.” He was still nibbling on her ear but she could feel his smirk against her skin.

She pressed the flat of her palm to his chest and slowly pushed him off of her, sitting up and then hopping off the counter and spinning around to face him.

Two steps forward backed him against the counter.

“You make me feel amazing, Clint, I want to make you feel just as good as you made me,” she purred into his ear, “Can I do that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sharp intake of breath at her nails raking over his nipple as her hand traveled down, reaching into his pajama pants and taking him in her hand, rubbing up and down causing him to become rock hard to her touch. 

She looked into his eyes and slowly lowered to her knees and pulled down his pajama pants, his hard cock springing out, his dark eyes following her every movement. She flicked her tongue out to lick at the pre-cum on the tip before moving to the base and licking up his length. 

His fingers went to her hair, tangling in her curls as she heard a soft moan come from his throat.

Then she took his whole length in her mouth, deep throating him, causing him to emit a half groan, half growl while his fingers curled into her hair, pushing her head softly closer to him as she bobbed up and down on him.

Natasha continued her movements, eyes open and holding contact with his. She swallowed hard, taking him further into her mouth and Clint growled again, pulling her away and up to his face.

“St..stop,” his hand cupped the side of his face, tangling in her curls, “I don’t want to come like this…want to come inside you.”

He caressed her face lovingly for a minute, running his thumb over her lip before his eyes washed stormy grey and he kissed her hard, backing her towards the couch and spinning her around, pulling her into him, his hardness pressing against her back.

Gently, but firmly, he pushed her forward, sliding his hands down to her hips, pulling her towards him, grinding against her and teasing her opening with his cock.

“Please Clint,” she whimpered, pressing back on him, willing him to enter her. His hands slid down her body to rest on her hips, fingers gripping her hard as he slid into her, pushing himself easily to the hilt and causing her to gasp at his fullness.

With maddening slowness, he pulled out almost completely before slamming back in, his fingers digging into her hips in a way that she knew would leave bruises but didn’t care.

Natasha braced herself on the couch, pushing back to meet him as he continued to pump quickly in and out, the rhythm of his movement causing the tension to build up in her stomach again as she emitted moans signaling her building orgasm.

All of a sudden he stopped and pulled out of her. She spun around in protest and he grabbed her as if she weighed nothing and carried her wordlessly to the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed and crawling up her body, his big hands sliding up her arms and pulling them above her head. He kept one hand wrapped around both tiny wrists while the other glided down her body, going between her legs and spreading her open, hitching under one knee and pushing forward. 

The vulnerability of her open position caused another rush of wetness between Natasha’s legs and Clint slid himself back in fluidly and began to pump his hips slowly.

Steely grey eyes bore into hers while their two bodies rocked against each other, paces matching and breathing fast. Natasha’s gaze remained fixated on him, not allowing herself to close her eyes even though she could feel searing heat rushing through her stomach and knew she was close again.

He had been gone for so long, they had spent so much time apart during their relationship that she relished being this close to him, as close as possible for any two people.

Her clit was being hit with every thrust as Clint’s hand opened up her legs even more and Natasha’s moans became more persistent now until she could no longer keep her eyes open. They squeezed shut as she came apart beneath him, his name echoing from her lips, off the walls and hardwood floors of their bedroom.

A few more thrusts and he was gone too, falling into the abyss with her, groaning into her neck as he poured into her, his hands a vice grip on her wrists.

Clint lay panting on top of her, fingers opening to allow her arms to release down to her side. She brought them down to his head, running them through his hair then down his back.

His weight was heavy over her but not crushing and Natasha could feel Clint’s racing heart against her before he rolled over onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes as he worked to catch his breath.

She shifted onto her side, head resting on a propped up elbow, eyes gazing down at him as she whispered. “I love you,”

He moved his arm down and his ocean-gray eyes peered out at her. “Can you say that again?” His tone was earnest.

“I love you.” She repeated, “More and more every day.”

His eyes closed, a warm smile spreading across his face, “I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” Eyelids fluttering open again, he turned his heads towards her, “You don’t even have the faintest idea…”

“I do,” she said, turning his left hand over and running her hand along his spider tattoo, then pressing her palm to it, her tattooed arrow lining up with his mark. “You know that I do.”

“Merry Christmas, Natasha.”

“Merry Christmas, Clint.”

Natasha slept more soundly that night than she ever had, legs tangled into his, a secure arm wrapped around her as Christmas lights twinkled outside their window.

On Christmas morning, Natasha woke up to the smell of food cooking and walked into the kitchen to find Clint flipping pancakes in his Santa hat and pajama pants. The breakfast was forgotten as the activities from the previous night were repeated.

The day was spent in quiet solitude, the traditional Christmas activities of gift exchange and massive food consumption were observed, but mostly the pair spent the holiday in bed, acting out repeat performances of Christmas Eve night.

The next morning Clint was gone and Natasha was left with the ghost of his memory. His mission would be over in a few weeks and they would spend some time together until the next assignment would interrupt their lives. 

This was a pattern that would be repeated for many years, with many Christmas’s celebrated together, and many spent alone. 

But the memory of this Christmas would always occupy a place in Natasha’s heart, giving her warmth and resilience in her darkest times, when she needed him most. Reminding her that she had someone who cared if she came back from a mission, someone who was waiting for her and reassuring her that making the decision to love someone and allowing him to love her so strongly it hurt was the right one.


End file.
